


Victor Zsasz- a portrait of an assassin.

by MistressOfCobblepot



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 17:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6124519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfCobblepot/pseuds/MistressOfCobblepot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor writes a letter to you explaining why he engraves tally mark onto his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victor Zsasz- a portrait of an assassin.

My love.

So many times you asked me about the cuts on my arms, on why I do this to myself. I have always avoided the questions, but you deserve an answer. Because you, the most delicate, loving person in the whole world, is able to love me, this monster of a human being. Why I will never understand, but you do. Every day I come home and am greeted by your loving embrace, your sweet kisses and the warmth from the softness of your body. You love me with such gentleness even though you know the things I do. And I love you; I love you so much it hurts inside my heart and deep within my soul. I would let the eternal darkness devour me if it would keep you safe from the dangers that lie beneath the dark surface of Gotham.

You know that I`m not much for words when it comes to talking, so I`m writing this letter to confess my deepest, darkest secrets to you. If you are going to understand the underlying reason to as why I do the things I do, I must start from the beginning.

Growing up in Gotham isn`t easy, not for any kid, but for me it was a torment. I grew up in a wealthy family, my father had his own international company and I was bound to take over, to follow in my father`s footstep. On the surface everything seemed perfect, we were the perfect family, but underneath it was the darkest place on earth to live in. It was like I was living in my own personal hell.

Starting school was fun…at first. I made some friends, no one close, not like a best friend, but at least children I could hang with in school. In the private school I went to, all families were alike, rich, powerful and perfect. And their children had to be perfect to, there had to be no flaws to show the rest of the world. So when the first hair started to fall from my head, the rest of my world fell to, crumbled in to little pieces around me. My friends avoided me; I was a freak now, not worthy to be around them. That didn`t bother me so much, I had always managed on my own and liked my own company best.

No, it was father`s eyes on me that destroyed me, that broke my heart. He would look at me with disgust as more and more hair fell off, until there was only the naked skin left. And that`s when the hell started. My father didn`t think this freak show that his son had turned in to, deserved his love. How the hell was I supposed to take over the company now when I had turned in to this monstrosity? The only one who still loved me unconditionally was my mother. Her loving embrace was the only thing in my life that mattered to me, that made me feel like I could be loved. But that was to be taken from me as well.

The first stroke came when my mother protected me from my father`s words. She said that he couldn`t say those cruel things about me, that I was his son and deserved to be loved. He looked at her with rage and then the stroke hit her over the face, made her crash to the floor with a thump. I stared in horror on my mother`s trembling body on the floor and then something came over me. Rage filled my heart, darkened my soul and with an unhuman growl I lunged at my father. The hit across my face came with such force I flew across the floor and hit the wall. It stunned me, made me paralyzed of fear as I looked up in my father`s hollow eyes. Then he left, without a word he walked out of the room and left the two off us lying in pieces on the floor. I crawled over to my mother and the tears fell from our eyes as we clung on to each other tight, in an effort to take away the pain inside our hearts.

The strokes on my mother continued until they were a daily event. And I hated myself, hated my small, weak body, hated that I still were a child so I wasn´t able to protect her. I would have done anything to keep her safe from my father`s rage. Than that day come, the day that is forever engraved inside my soul.

It started as any other day with the usual torment from my father, his words hurt more than any stroke he could give, although he hadn`t hit me again since that day. My mother had enough of his cruelness against me. I begged her to leave it be, said it didn`t bother me anymore but she was relentless. My loving mother defended me yet again, stood up against my father and showed me how much she loved me. The first strike was no surprise and mother stood her ground, used to the force and the pain. With defiance in her eyes she looked back at him but that only fuelled my father`s rage. He hit her again and again until she fell to the floor, that didn´t stop him, he kept hitting over and over, his only guidance the fury within him. I screamed at him, pulled on his arm, begged him to stop but he only stopped when my mother`s limp body lied there, with red streaks colouring her golden hair and until her breaths didn´t filled the air no more.

From that moment I hated my father with my entire existence and I hated myself equally. My father went to prison and I ended up in an orphanage. I didn`t cry no more, I didn`t deserve to, I only deserved the pain for not being able to protect her. The first cut was for her, it would be a mark on my skin as a reminder that I failed her.  
As I grew up and become an adult, the first one I killed was my father. And the feeling of his life slipping away under my hands as a drove the knife inside him was an escape from reality, it made the pain go away, if only just for a brief moment. I know I said I deserve the pain, and I do, but having it fill me up all the time consumes me and I need a short relief from it or it will completely consume me.

The second mark was for my father, to remind me of the sweet feeling inside me when I took his life. The sensation didn`t last long though and I knew I had to kill again. I started practising my skills and soon the opportunity to become a hitman for Don Falcone presented itself for me. And now I make one tally mark for every person I kill, because the pain while I cut myself sooths the pain in my soul. Looking at the marks I can remember how my pain slipped away and the image of my mother smiling and holding me can emerge from the dark grave off pain I keep her locked in.

So there you have it, my life story and I hope you still can see past the monster that I am and love me. And I want you to know that I would never fail you, like I failed my mother. I will love you and protect you from anything that might hurt you. And your tally mark will never be engraved on my skin.  
Forever yours Victor.

***  
Tears fell from your cheeks and stained Victor`s black leaded words. Such horror and pain your loved one had endured in his life, it made you feel sick to your very soul that he had to grow up living in hell. And of course you still loved him, you loved him even more and you believed his words. He would never let anything happen to you, he would protect you and love you for eternity. And when he gets home, you will show him how much you love him, you will take him in your arms and never let go, you will hold him like that forever, embraced in the warmth of your body and soul.


End file.
